


Band-Aid Covers the Bullet Hole

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom wants Ben to talk about when he was taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Band-Aid Covers the Bullet Hole

            “If you ever want to talk about, you know,” he shifts uncomfortably.  “You can talk to me.”

            Both Dad and Hal tell Ben that, almost as soon as he wakes up. 

            “I really just want to forget about it,” Ben ends up telling them both, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. 

            When they figure out that Ben’s spikes aren’t going away, Dad approaches him again.  This time, Ben is sitting on the rooftop, kicking his feet over the edge.  Dad sits down next to him, mimicking him. 

            “Are you okay?” Dad asks.

            “Yeah, of course,” Ben says.

            “I just…” Dad trails off.

            “What?” Ben says after a beat.

            “You’ve never talked about what happened to you.  And it worries me now,” Dad says.  “Because I don’t think you’re gonna be able to just forget it happened.”

            Ben is always so careful with what he says about being taken by the skitters.  He’s worried that something he says will make everyone distrust him.  Well, almost everyone distrusts him already, but while he can take distrust from strangers and people he just met, Ben doesn’t know if he could take it if Dad looked at him like that. 

            Sometimes he thinks that he sees flashes of suspicion in Hal’s eyes and it hurts.  He’s seen how carefully he watches him, especially when he’s playing with Matt.  Ben tries to chalk it up to how Hal hasn’t really liked him the last couple years anyway.  But deep inside, he knows.

            “I haven’t been able to forget,” Ben says, shivering at the thought.  “But talking isn’t going to change anything.”  At least not for the better.

            “It might make you feel better.  Because I know you’re not doing as well as you want me to think,” Dad says, touching his shoulder.

            Ben smiles and looks over at Dad.  “You need to stop with your weird ability to know what I’m thinking.” 

            “It’s a dad thing,” he says, nudging him.  “Now, come on.  Talk to me.”

            “What if I told you that I don’t remember much?”

            “I’d tell you to stop lying to your old man,” Dad says.  “You’ve got a mind like a steel trap.  And you would have led with that, not told me how much you wanted to forget.”

            Ben sighs and stares up at the stars.  He wonders where the skitters came from.  He wonders if there’s anyone up there who can help. 

            “I don’t know what you want me to say.  About how scared I was?  About how they only took me because I was so stupid?” Ben says bitterly.

            “What do you mean?” Dad asks, voice soft. 

            “They got Nick first.  And his parents were dead; I watched it happen, hiding under the couch, and then I followed the skitter because I wanted to be able to tell you where they had taken him.  So you could save him from whatever they were gonna do to him.  We didn’t know,” Ben says, voice weak.  “And I was so scared, but I made it, Dad.  I was coming back to get you, when a branch cracked under my foot and they found me.  I tried to run, but, you know how I was.”

            “A terrible runner,” Dad says, striking the right balance between concern and humor.  “You were trying to keep your friend safe, Ben.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  Next time, just-“

            “They dragged me away, and I was screaming, hoping you or anyone was nearby,” the words fall right out of Ben.  Now that he’s started, he doesn’t know how to shut his mouth.  “They threw us in a little room and it smelled like pee.  I think I peed myself too.  Nick and I held onto each other so hard.  They had to tear us apart.”

            Ben’s breathing is ragged and he can feel his heart pounding in his ears.  More than that- he can hear his screaming and Nick’s and he can smell the pee.  His fingers are clenching and unclenching as he tries to hold onto Nick’s hand again.  

            “The table was really warm.  There had been a lot of kids before me, I think.  I could see Nick, watched it happen to him so I knew what was coming.  I kept screaming, even when it slid on my back.  I hoped you’d hear me, Dad.  And then I could feel it.  I could feel it in me and suddenly I didn’t wanna scream anymore.  I didn’t want you to find me anymore.  I didn’t want anything anymore.  It was complete contentment.”

            Dad’s hand is resting on his back, rubbing small circles.  Ben realizes his cheeks are wet and he wipes them furiously.  He chooses his next words carefully.

            “I don’t remember much about what I did when I was harnessed.  I mostly remember waking up and seeing you and Hal and Matt.  I was so happy to see you and Hal and Matt.”

            Ben doesn’t mention the loss.  How weird it still feels to be alone in his head.  How he was never achy or tired or unhappy with the skitters.  How they loved him.  How he has to remind himself that they didn’t actually love him, that they were just using him, that they’d hurt everyone Ben loves in an instant. 

            How he’s scared that he’s going to start sounding like Rick.

            Dad scoots over and wraps an arm around him, holding him tight.  It’s a good thing because Ben feels deflated, empty.  That’s everything he can tell Dad.  It’s more than he’s told anyone.  It’s all the bits and pieces of things that keep him awake at night. 

            When Ben can finally look Dad in the eye, he’s afraid of what he’ll see.  Scorn.  Pity.  Mistrust.

            But Ben only sees love.  Compassion.  Not quite understanding, but a desire to understand and console.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” Dad whispers, voice tight.  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time, or at least sooner.”

            “It’s okay.  I’m here now,” Ben says.  He scoots even closer to Dad, and if they weren’t dangling at the edge of a rooftop, he would probably find a way to scoot into his lap.  “And I’m going to be okay because you’re here and you always make things okay.”  It’s childish, especially these days, but Ben has to keep a hold on his faith in his dad. 

            “Thanks, Ben,” Dad says, and Ben can tell that he doesn’t think he deserves it. 

            “Thanks for getting me to talk.  I never would have… I’ve never said any of that out loud before.  It feels weird,” Ben says.

            “Good or bad?”

            “Both,” Ben answers plainly.  It makes it feel more real. 

            Dad presses his lips to the top of Ben’s head.  “How about I tuck you in?”

            Ben’s not tired and Ben doesn’t want to go to sleep, but he finds himself nodding anyway.  “That sounds good.”

            It feels almost normal as Dad pulls the covers up to his chest and presses his lips to his forehead.  Ben lets his eyes slide shut and Dad sits on the edge of his makeshift bed for a few minutes before murmuring “I love you,” and leaving.

            Ben tells himself he’s only going to lay there until Dad is also asleep, but talking has taken it out of him.  Soon, he finds himself pulled down by the unbearable weight of exhaustion. 

            He doesn’t dream of the harnessing for once.  He dreams of swinging in a hammock and of Dad reading to him under the big tree in their yard on a sweet summer day, cool lemonade in hand as the sun smiles down on them both.

            A lot of things are gone forever, Ben knows this better than most people.  But that, at least, is something that could happen again.


End file.
